


This Is Me Trying In 3 Acts

by queen_of_demons_and_hell



Series: Folklore Fanfics [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Mor and Asterin backstoryyyyy, angsty af, but also some family fluff?, i enjoyed it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_demons_and_hell/pseuds/queen_of_demons_and_hell
Summary: Act I; Asterin Blackbeak after losing her childAct II; Morrigan in Hewn CityAct III; Misc. Scenes of the both of them through history
Series: Folklore Fanfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172012
Kudos: 2





	This Is Me Trying In 3 Acts

**Author's Note:**

> Read it on tumblr for correct italicization!

Act I; Asterin Blackbeak  
I've been having a hard time adjusting  
I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting  
"You slept with a human man, you whore," She spat, "And you couldn't even give birth correctly."

"What?" The world around Asterin was hazy, and all she could feel was the relief of having her child out of her, but also fear for that same reason.

"You are pathetic,"

"What happened to my baby?" 

"He was dead once he was born." A small witch Asterin didn't know murmured to her. Asterin felt her heart shatter.

"No, no, it cannot be true," She could barely get her words out, she choked over her sobs and words, like the pieces of her heart had lodged in her lungs.  
If it was even possible, the world went even darker and hazier.

All she remembered after that was the smell of burning flesh and the Matron Blackbeak spitting insults at her, "Whore, filthy, broken, worthless,  
Unclean.”

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back  
I have a lot of regrets about that

"Asterin," Manon was staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Where did your mind go? I need you sharp."

Asterin apologized, trying her hardest to act like nothing was wrong. They all fell for it, and in a way, she hated them for it. She wanted to scream.  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Thirteen were camped out in a mountain on a mission from Manon's grandmother. They had to rise before dawn, so the other witches had retired early. Asterin, however, laid awake, thoughts and nightmares plaguing all her attempts at rest.

Nobody knew.

Nobody knew.

Nobody knew but Asterin and the Matron. Since what happened that witch that had broken the news was nowhere to be found. The Matron had probably disposed of the loose end.

Asterin pushed herself into an upright sitting position, looking around at the other witches, all asleep.

She had to be careful, they were trained to wake at a disturbance that could be antagonistic, so she had to maneuver carefully, taking her broom with her.

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout  
Could've followed my fears all the way down

She wasn't sure how long she flew, but it wasn't very long.

She tossed her broom to the side and jogged up to the cliffside, falling to her  
knees.

Only a single tear escaped.

She looked over the side. It was quite a distance, meaning if she fell, it would likely be the end for Asterin Blackbeak.

At the bottom, she saw a figure walk out of the woods. Her shoulders tightened until she saw her hunter walking towards her cliff. He cradled a child carefully in his arms. They stopped directly under her. She couldn't hear him, but somehow she knew what he was saying.

"Come on, please. We miss you. We need you."

She leaned over the edge even farther, but she paused.

"Asterin!" She turned to find the source of the yell and saw Manon pushing her way through the crowd. Manon threw her arms around Asterin and buried her face in her neck. "Your grandmother?" Asterin asked softly, patting her cousin's back. 

She felt Manon nod and led the girl into a sitting position on the floor.

She sniffed, smelling alcohol.

"So that's why you're being so physically affectionate," Asterin mumbled to herself, running her hands through Manon's hair.

When Manon's breathing deepened, Asterin lifted her into a nearby cot, knowing that Manon would tell her what happened with her grandmother if she wanted to.  
~~~  
“Hey, Asterin,” Faline and Fallon were both grinning at her, teeth sharp. Asterin was immediately on edge. The Demon Twins never smiled unless they were about to cause extreme bloodshed.

“Yes?” She asked carefully, never taking her eyes off of them. She had no idea what they were doing and what they had planned.

“Come with us,” Faline said, her voice like a silk noose.

“Why?”

“We noticed you’ve been off lately,” Fallon said, resting her hands on her hips where she knew knives were concealed.

“Have some fun with us!” Faline was at her shoulder now, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Fallon was at her other shoulder, “We’re going to take our brooms and some knives,” She produced one, twirling it expertly in her hands before flipping it, handing it hilt-first to Asterin.

“And attack some people!” Faline finished with what sounded like a disturbing giggle.

Asterin took the knife warily and took a deep breath looking at both of them.

This was what they knew, she realized, they didn’t know what was wrong but  
this was their way to fix it and she felt a piece of her heart warm.

“Why not?” Asterin conceded.

The twins had glee in their eyes that Asterin knew would never come out in any form of honest laughter, but she was okay with that. She loved these demonic weirdos.  
~~~~~~~~~  
Ghislaine was sitting in a small corner of the room. The fireplace was crackling next to her and she sat on the floor like it was a throne. Her back was straight, her feet tucked under her as she balanced a book precariously on her lap while she took a sip from a mug.

“Is that tea?” Asterin asked, knowing full well it wasn’t.

Ghislaine just grinned, her lips too red to be simple paint.

“Who’s?” She asked, keeping an eye on Ghislaine’s book - which looked ready to tumble into the fire.

Ghislaine shrugged, “I did not ask his name.”

Asterin nodded and the pair lapsed into silence. Ghislaine was just about to continue reading when Asterin broke the stillness.

“This is going to sound,” She hesitated. “Childish, perhaps. But, will you read me a story?”

Ghislaine stared at her, only showing a single flash of surprise. “Why?”

“It’s too quiet,” Asterin mumbled, gesturing to the window. The night was still and quiet, the hum of insects and birds had ended hours ago. Normally, Asterin fell asleep next to her window, comforted by the sounds of a never-ending storm, but not tonight. “I can’t fall asleep.”

Ghislaine was silent for long enough for a flush of humiliation to spread across Asterin’s cheeks, but finally, she gestured to the small cot in the corner of her room.

Asterin laid down wearily, but already her mind had begun settling.

Ghislaine gently brushed her hair back in an uncommon motherly gesture.

She curled up on the floor by Asterin and started reading her book. It was nothing Asterin understood but she had soon been soothed enough that her eyes grew too heavy to ignore.

Somehow, she knew Ghislaine would never share what happened that night  
unless Asterin allowed it. 

Never.  
~~~~~  
Vesta was the witch Asterin was closest to, aside from Manon. They loved to wreak havoc together.

She would always match Asterin’s energy. If Asterin was quieter, more tired then they wouldn’t go out for as long as they normally would, if Vesta requested they go out at all.

If Asterin was ever hesitant, Vesta would never force her to do anything or question why she was hesitant.

On the other end of the spectrum, if Asterin was aggressive. If she wanted blood instead of harmless pranks on the coven, Vesta would oblige her and they would hunt down any man hurting anyone. And then they would rip him apart.

She wouldn’t question when Asterin flinched at the sight of a mother and her child, and then that would lead to a particularly bloody evening for them.  
~~~~ 

Briar and Edda never talked to her but on days they suspected she wasn’t well they wouldn’t leap out at her in the way they would with everyone else. The two of them, witches who took their pleasure in scaring the others, would back off  
Asterin if they observed her and felt that they should.

They would distract the others while Asterin snuck off to fly and cool down, or when Asterin’s breathing became irregular and she needed the attention taken away from her.

They’d never mention when she woke suddenly in the night and escaped through the shadows when they were on watch.

They never brought it up, and she loved them all the more for it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~

Imogen and Linnea were never as close with Asterin but, same as the others they never questioned her on her weird behavior. They would often back her up in her constant struggle against Matron Blackbeak.

If they were at an encampment and either of them were on watch they would allow Asterin to take off into the night on her broom.

None of them would question her if they assumed it would make her uncomfortable. They helped her if they could, all of them.

She didn’t deserve their loyalty. Their love.

She didn’t deserve them.  
~~~~~~~~~~

"Those women don't even know what your grandmother's done to you," She  
heard her hunter's voice in her head again.

She looked down at them and let out a dry sob, "I'm sorry my loves but I'll join you eventually. Manon and the thirteen need me now." 

She could almost see her hunter’s face. His broken expression, his mouth tight as if to stop himself from asking her one final time to join them. If it was really him, which Asterin doubted. She knew he understood. He didn’t like it. 

But he understood she had to leave. She would see them again, someday.

Her voice was heavy and she was just tempted to leap off the cliff and not give it a second thought, but her coven's faces just kept appearing in front of her.

So, with heavy limbs and tears streaking down her face, she left her hunter and child once again.  
~~~~~~~~~  
And maybe I don't quite know what to say

But I'm here in your doorway

She jumped off her broom before her feet touched the ground, it was already dawn and she saw the thirteen spread out across the mountain, but not too far, apparently searching for her.

Vesta saw her first, relief apparent on her face, and she called out to the others.

Asterin clapped Vesta's hand and pulled each other close until they were touching foreheads. The rest of the thirteen did this with Asterin too, aside from Manon, who was standing with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Where were you." Her voice was gruff.

Asterin bowed her head, "I apologize,"

Although it wasn't an explanation Manon apparently thought it was good enough because she surged forward, pulling Asterin into an uncommon hug.

"Whatever you did, I hope you're okay now," Manon whispered.

I just wanted you to know  
That this is me trying

Asterin's heart was still fractured, but she hoped that slowly she could heal, maybe not completely. Never completely. But enough.

Asterin pulled away, slinging one arm across Manon's shoulder, the other over Vesta. The others followed suit.

"We are the Thirteen, from now until the Darkness claims us," Asterin said, the echoes of the others not far behind.

She'd lost a family. But she wouldn't forget the one she still had.

I just wanted you to know  
That this is me trying  
Act II; Morrigan  
They told me all of my cages were mental

"I just want you to be happy, sweetheart!"

"No! No, you don't! You want me to get married and have children and never do anything other than care for my kids! I want to be someone!"

"You have so much potential!"

"Yes, I do. I could be a legendary warrior, I could live my life the way I want to. But all you want is for me to rear children."

“I know you know that I am more powerful than anybody in this family.” Mor snarled at her mother. “I know it.”

Her mother raised her chin, her eyes going hard. A stark contrast to the previous desperate passion.  
“You’re still a virgin. And you’re so powerful. It’s going to be very valuable for this family when your father and I find you a powerful suitor.”

Mor went silent, her mouth slightly gaped. “No. No. NO!”

Her mother didn’t flinch, in fact, she rolled her eyes. “Sit down, Morrigan. This is your duty.” When Mor didn’t sit her mother put her hands on her shoulders, digging her nails in enough to draw blood, and forced her to sit at the vanity. 

Her mother grabbed her brush and roughly pulled through Mor’s hair. “You will make us proud, Morrigan. You will not be a disgrace.”

So I got wasted like all my potential

Mor knew she needed to get out but she couldn't. She couldn't and she hated it. She hated herself. She hated her father. She hated her mother. She hated the damn Court of Nightmares. 

She curled into herself on her bed, fighting tears. They all wanted so much from her. So much that she couldn't give them. She couldn't wear the dresses she wanted, lest she tempts any of the men that aren't her husband. 

Her breath came out in short gasps. She needed to be numb. She couldn’t do this alone.

She hunched over and let herself become smoke and shadow.

There was a party going on in the main room, everyone was drunk or high or otherwise distracted. 

Mor allowed herself a small smile as she swiped a bottle of some of the strongest liquor she knew her father had. She winnowed back to her room and allowed herself a one-woman party, stripping down to her underwear. Destroying everything she could get away with, slamming her fists into the mirror. Tearing apart the dresses her mother forced her to wear. Throwing things against the wall hard enough they broke.

Needless to say, she downed the bottle quickly.

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad  
I have a lot of regrets about that

“It’s your seventeenth birthday,” Her mother said, brushing her hair into an intricate style. Her mother wasn’t looking at her but Mor was staring at her in the mirror. “Is there anything you want to do to celebrate?”

“No.” She said, her voice stiff and shoulders tense.

Her mother sighed and a flash of pain crossed her face before setting down the brush.

“Well. I’ll see you for dinner then.”

Mor nodded.

The night of her seventeenth birthday was the same as her other nights. 

Sneak a bottle, strip down, destroy everything possible. Nothing different, the same mind-numbing act that made her believe, for only a short time, that she had some kind of control over life.

Only when she would wake up, would she remember she didn’t.

A few days later she jolted awake in her bed, sharp pains in her lower abdomen. She launched herself off the bed to see a small puddle of blood where she’d been laying.

A single trickle of blood made its way out from beneath her nightgown and down her leg, hitting the floor with deafening clarity.

“Oh, mother save me,” She whispered.

Suddenly the mountain seemed to shake, Mor lunged for her bed, gripping the frame as terrible convulsions wracked through her body. The world flashed white then went still as if nothing had happened, but Mor knew the truth.

Her true power had been awakened with such intensity the mountain shook.

The realization of what this all meant washed over her like cold water, dispiriting the excitement of holding such intense power.

“Oh, cauldron.” Tears streaked across her face. “I’ve bled.”

She sunk to her knees and buried her face in her hands. “I can get pregnant.”

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere  
Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here

She stared at her hands. They were starting to tremble. She could see the tips of her fingers shaking.

“Eris Vanserra, he’s the oldest son of the Autumn Court. He’s going to be a wonderful investment for this family. Just like you will be for him.”

The rest of her fingers.  
“You’re so powerful, Morrigan. And you are pure. You will be the perfect wife. Especially if before we hand you over that attitude of yours is fixed.”

Her palms and wrists.

“How long?” She heard herself ask. She was seated at the table, her food uneaten in front of her. Her hands rested in her lap. Modest as ever dress. 

Hair styled exactly like her mother always styled it.

It started as a normal dinner until her father had told her they’d found a man with the highest price to offer for her.

It had been done. She’d been sold.

“Soon, Morrigan, soon.”

She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Mother above.

Eris Vanserra!

Mother above.

Her breathing came out in choked gasps, her chest was tight.

“With a few extra lessons,” Her mother said, imperious to her plight. “I can make into the perfect wife.”

“Do you know how many kids the lady of autumn had?” Mor asked softly. Her parents didn’t respond. Good. It was rhetorical. “Too many.”

“Too many,” She whispered to herself, rocking back and forth in her stiff, stone chair.

“You’re always so concerned about the children.” Her father spat. “It’s an honor to bear a High Lord’s child.”

“He might not even become High Lord.” Mor spat back.

Her father shoved away from the table and strode over to where she was. She braced herself seconds before his hand collided with her cheek.

He didn’t say anything else to her, just stood there, breathing heavily.

“Start those extra lessons immediately.” He snarled at her mother.

“Of course,” She said quietly.

Mor looked back at her hands.  
Pourin' out my heart to a stranger  
But I didn't pour the whiskey

“Mor?” Her cousin knocked on her bedroom door.

She threw it open and leaped into her arms. He gripped the doorframe to not fall over, wrapping his arms around her. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asked softly.

She made an affirmative noise. She pulled away just enough to grab a bag with all she needed while they were in the mountains.

He wrapped an arm around her again and winnowed to the mountains.

“Thank you,” She whispered to the smoke. She didn’t think he would hear her but his arm tightened around her.  
~~~

“Cass, Mor,”

Mor looked up at her cousin, her aunt, and Azriel next to him.

“It’s time for us to leave. Watch her, alright?” Rhys said to Cass, his face full of mock-seriousness.

Her aunt wrapped her arms around her and Mor felt herself melt. Rhys’ mom had always been more of a mother to Mor than her own was.

“You be careful.” Her aunt pulled away and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The full meaning of that statement wasn’t lost on Mor.

“I’m trying my best,” She murmured back. Her aunt brought her in for another hug.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. You’re so strong. Keep fighting, okay? Always keep fighting.”

Rhys hugged her next and kissed the top of her head. “See you later, oh cousin of mine.” Mor laughed.

Azriel didn’t hug her, but he nodded in her direction and she smiled back. “All three of you come back alive, okay?”

When they were gone, Cass sat back down. “So,”

Mor sat next to him and raised her eyebrows. “What do you do for fun around here?”

A few hours later they were both sprawled haphazardly on the couch. He’d suggested they drink but she’d turned him down. Somewhere in her mind she already knew where this was going to end.

Mor was ranting to him about her problems with Eris, her father, her mother, and the entire court. And, in response, he was talking to her about what had happened to him to lead him to Az and Rhys.

When they had lapsed into silence a thought came up with Mor and she didn’t think it through before she spoke. “What if there was a way for me to escape being married to Eris?”

Cassian looked at her, intrigued.

“The only thing he wants-they want-that I have control over is my virginity.”

Understanding started to dawn in his eyes, “Morrigan, I’m not sure if-”

“Please, Cassian. Please.” Her voice was desperate now.

He looked at her. “You are just going to find someone else if I say no, aren’t you.”

She didn’t respond and he sighed.

“Well?” She asked finally.

“Come here.” He responded and she smiled, moving across the couch until she was on his lap. 

He took her face in his hands, keeping her a distance from his face. “You’re completely sure about this.”

“Neither of us are drunk, Cassian. I’m completely clear-headed.”

That was all she needed to say.  
I just wanted you to know

“Do you know what this is going to do, Cassian? Did you even think before jumping into my cousin’s pants?”

“It was completely consensual on both sides.” He said carefully.

“So? This is going to destroy her! This decision will cause much political scandal!”

“That’s all you care about? She is being forced into many things she doesn’t want to do, and all you care about is your political chess game.”

Rhys snarled a warning. “I am trying my damned best to help her. I love her.”

“You’ve sure got a bad way of showing it.”

Then all talking stopped and when Mor finally pushed her way out her cousin and Cass were fighting in the snow.

“Guys!” She called but she might as well have been yelling at a brick wall.

They didn’t stop. 

For days, they didn’t stop.

They were at ends for so long, Az bouncing between them occasionally in arguments but mostly just looking tired.

“Please,” She whispered. They both looked up at her. “You two are brothers. Come on, I don’t want this to be the reason you two never speak again. Besides, what I do,” She glared at Rhys, “Is none of your business.”

They stared at each other. Rhys was the first to offer an olive branch. Cass grudgingly took it.

They talked animatedly for hours, working out why Rhys was so wound up about this, and very quickly began acting like they hadn’t been fighting at all.

Mor breathed a laugh as she watched them from her perch in the makeshift kitchen. They were brothers, and she was very glad she hadn’t caused the end to that. She knew her cousin needed him and from what she could tell, Cassian needed him just as much, if not more.

Later that evening the four of them (Mor, Cass, Az, and Rhys) were sitting in a circle on the floor, drinking and talking and laughing but a shadow hung over them all, putting a damper on the conversation. Mor had to go back to the Hewn City soon, and none of them were looking forward to it.  
~~~~

Later, Mor was sitting on her bed in the cabin, fighting sleep. Falling asleep meant the new day would dawn sooner. Which meant she would have to leave. She was staring out the window, the reflection of the moonlight on the mountains should have taken her breath away but it was dampened by the sight of the tents which held the other Illyrian warriors camped out at this camp.

A gentle knock on her door startled her and she looked over at it with hesitance before remembering it couldn’t be her father.

“Come in,” She called.

Rhys pushed her door open and stared at her. She stared, unflinchingly, right back. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable in the doorway.

“I’m sorry.” He said finally

She didn’t respond but gestured him in.

He sat stiffly on her bed. “I know what you do isn’t my business. I know that. I do.”

She nodded her acknowledgment.

“I worry about you, Mor.” His voice was edging desperately. He wanted her to understand. “I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Do you think Cassian will hurt me?”

He hesitated then shook his head, “Cass wouldn’t do that, I know that too. But everyone else might.” He whispered.

“I know, Rhys. But I can’t. I can’t get married and bear children to a man I don’t love. I can’t do that. That’s not who I am!” Her voice was rising above the necessary levels.

“I understand,” He murmured, tucking her into his side. “I do.”

“I love you too,” She whispered finally.

“You are too powerful and beautiful and smart to be contained. I will do anything I can to help you. I promise.”

She started crying and wrapped her arms tighter around him.

“I promise.”  
That this is me trying

Mor and Eris were standing in the woods in the Autumn Court. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her braid whipping around behind her wildly.

Somehow Eris had found out about what Mor had done with Cassian, she had a feeling her cousin had reluctantly let it get around.

“I can’t.” Eris shook his head, backing away from her, “You’ve been ruined.” 

Mor fought to keep her face impassive, and if she showed emotion she was miserable but her heartbeat quickened. She was so close. So close to her freedom.

“You’ve been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie.” Eris snarled, spitting into the dirt. “We can’t be married.”

Mor watched him carefully, she had no idea what he was going to do.

He shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “Why?”

Mor knew he wasn’t asking because he cared about their marriage, he only wanted to know why Cassian. Why an Illyrian. Honestly? She had no idea.

She stayed silent, raising her chin.

He rolled his eyes, “Right. Well. I break the union.”

And then he just walked away. He didn’t make sure she got home. Not like she wanted him to watch her winnow away but it was rude anyway.  
She made a vulgar gesture at his back before leaving, grinning to herself.

He’d reacted so much better than she thought he would, then he could have reacted.

I just wanted you to know

Her mother hadn’t come to her rooms that morning, it was a serving girl who had helped her dress and was now braiding her hair. She’d known this servant for a long time. She’d grown up in the court, near Morrigan, and had been sent to assist her on many occasions. They weren’t close, necessarily but Mor felt she could talk to the girl.

Today her nimble fingers weaved through her blonde curls, her hands were steady, a stark contrast to her face which was bleached white. Her eyes were tracing the room as if she was scared something-or someone- would jump out and attack her. 

“Should I be afraid?” Her voice broke the brittle silence.

The girl- Aine- didn’t stop her braiding but her lips moved though no sound came out. 

“I’m not sure,” She said finally, “But I am scared for you, mistress.”

Mor’s fingers twitched, it wasn’t a great answer.

She finished with a small flourish and Mor stood. She looked herself over in the mirror, Aine fiddling with her hands behind her. Mor took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, raising her chin. She had done this. She had saved herself from marriage and was now going to be facing consequences. 

But she had freed herself from the terrorizing grip of Eris Vanserra.

Now she had her father to deal with.  
~~~~~~

“Good luck, Mistress.” Aine’s voice echoed as Mor exited her room with a sinking feeling she wouldn’t be back.

When she entered the throne room, her mother and father were both waiting for her. 

Her mother’s face was something she’d never seen from her before. It was more than the disappointment she had on her face when she found her only daughter hungover or sneaking out of the kitchen at night. It was a bone-chilling disappointment. The kind of disappointment that lingered for longer than an hour. She wasn’t disheveled, her mother had most likely never been disheveled a day in her life- but her shoulders were heavy, her eyes rimmed with dark circles and her fingers twitched from their place resting in her lap.

Her father, however, was more than disappointed. He was angry. His eyes were dark with a rage that chilled the room. He wasn’t sitting like her mother was, he was standing, hands clenched at his sides, feet planted into the ground as if he was seconds away from breaking into a run or spontaneously bursting into flames. Or both.

Morrigan froze in the doorway and they both looked her up and down, both of their gazes filled with something that definitely wasn’t good.

“You’ve disappointed us.” Her mother’s voice was calm. No, calm wasn’t the word to describe it. It was careful. Calculatingly undisturbed. Mor often forgot that her mother was Hewn City thorough-bred, she was manipulative. She was dangerous. “Are you sorry?”

“No,” Mor said after a pregnant silence. “No, I’m not sorry for wanting to live my own life.”

Keir laughed but it was filled with that same anger.

Her mother stood up, resting a hand on Keir’s arm briefly before walking over to Mor. She met her eyes but didn’t reach for her.

“Mom?” She asked, fighting to stop her voice from shaking.

She reached up and caressed Mor’s face before dropping it. Then she brought it back up so suddenly Mor didn’t have time to react as her mother’s hand met her cheek. Her head snapped sideways in response. “Mom,” Her voice was a whisper of agony.

Her mom shook her head in disgust. “You are not my daughter. Not since you whored yourself out to someone so lesser.” She stepped away from Mor, “You couldn’t have even done it with another high fae. You’re disgusting.”

“Mom.” 

“How dare you. How dare you! My only daughter, disgracing herself and me and especially your father in the process. You’re so powerful, you could have had powerful sons.”

That spurred her into words, “I could have had powerful sons? Not that I could use my power, just pass it on to my sons.”

“Yes.”

“The fact that you see nothing wrong with that,” Mor said meeting her eyes again, “Is so wrong. I’m so sorry for you.”

Her mother made to slap her again but Mor was expecting it this time, catching her wrist.

Her mother yanked her hand away from her and walked back to Keir, she murmured, “Do what you will.” Then turned and left, not looking at her on her way out.

Keir walked across the room to her, taking her shoulders in a tight grip, “My wife doesn’t have the stomach to watch what I have to do to you.”

A curl of fear, “And what’s that?”

“I have to teach you a lesson.” His lip curled upwards in excitement that made Mor’s stomach churn. Stepping away and motioning for her to be restrained allowed for multiple of his best warriors to enter. She was good, but there were too many. She did land a few blows of her own but her power was untrained and wild so she had to rely on her physical capabilities alone. She thought she was winning, that she was going to make it out of this with only a few cuts and bruises when one surprised her. Her legs were swept out from under her, followed by a swift kick to the ribs 

“And then,” He lifted one shoulder casually as his only child was restrained in a standing position. She wasn’t against a wall, allowing him to circle her, “If you survive what I must do to you, then you become Autumn’s problem.”

One of the warriors handed him a knife, and her hell began.

She prayed to the Cauldron for her to blackout, to not feel the pain her own father was inflicting, to not hear her own screams echoing, her own blood dripping onto the marble floor.

The Cauldron, apparently, wasn’t on her side.  
That this is me trying

She wanted death. She hadn’t ever wished for death like she did right now. Part of her knew she was free now and celebrated that. However, the rational part of her. The part that currently felt the blood leaving every possible place in her body, knew that she wasn’t going to be ‘free’ for very long.  
She shifted, almost imperceptibly, and felt the nails in her womb shift. She pressed her lips together to contain the pained groan that attempted to escape.

She dug her nails into the soft earth and scratched futilely. She didn’t know what she wanted to happen, her legs were numb so unless she could gather enough upper body strength there was no moving from this spot.

Her father hadn’t even had the gall to take her and dump her himself. He’d had some of his most trusted soldiers leave her at the border to the Autumn Court. As soon as they’d left and her heightened senses stopped being able to pick them up she’d allowed herself a single scream.

It had torn through her with enough force to make her entire body shake. She didn’t know if she was screaming from the blinding agony she was currently in or how quickly everyone she’d ever known turned on her with an undeniable eagerness that hurt to think about.

The damp earth around her fingers was all she could think about as her mind faded in and out of consciousness. The earth seemed to be getting damper and with a horrified whimper she knew why.

Her head, her neck, her upper arms. The cuts and injuries her father had inflicted on her. They were open. That seemed so obvious in hindsight. The soil wasn’t damp from the rain. Her blood was soaking into the ground, and fast.

Another whimper escaped her lips as she dug her hands in harder, attempting to pull herself somewhere.

She yanked herself along, the sounds of her shattered broken bones shifting made bile rise to her tongue. She couldn’t see, the pain so horrible it was not even registering in her mind but it was registering everywhere else.

She pulled and pulled, inching carefully along the grass, slick with what should be running through her veins.

The birds, undisturbed, chirping above her. What she would give to be up there with them, no worries, just a simple purpose, and a simpler life.

The tears running down her face made knowing the difference between what part of her was slick with blood and what part of her was slick with tears difficult.

“Morrigan.”

Hearing her own name, knowing she wasn’t alone here to die any longer made her cry out. But, when her brain finally recognized the voice, her smile died before it began.

Eris Vanserra crouched over her, running a slender finger down her torso, beginning at her neck until he reached the note. She saw him pause and read it.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, lips curling in distaste. “My problem?” He ran a hand through her bloody hair with enough mock-tenderness to make her shiver. “No.” He pulled his hand away, wiping it on seemingly the only patch of grass not wet with her blood.

When he stood up and walked away there was a single moment where he looked back at her, something like regret shining in his eyes and in the tightness of his lips. However, since the world started fading not a minute after, she chalked that up to her imagination.  
At least I’m trying

She thought she was dead when she was picked up. She was numb all over, not feeling pain and unable to move any part of her. With more desperation and strength than she’d ever used she forced her eyes to open. She blinked quickly at the flash of light that sent shocks through her body.

“You’re free. You’re free.”

Azriel.

He seemed to recognize she couldn’t speak and cradled her closer, taking care to not bump the nails still embedded in her stomach.

“You’re out, Mor. We’re going home.”

You’re free.  
Act III; The Finale  
And it's hard to be at a party  
When I feel like an open wound

Her cousin tried to fight her battle with her. Azriel, Cassian, and even Amren did the same. They all worked relentlessly to help her heal. She knew she had to fight her battles on her own. It was working, albeit slowly.

The group of them were stumbling down the streets during a calm night. The moonlight stretched through and reflected off the beautiful and colorful streets and buildings of Velaris. The gentle sound of the Sidra flowing sent calming waves through Mor.

The liquor in her stomach warmed her body which still confused her mind. 

She’d been drinking at Rita’s with her cousin and the others this evening. In the beginning, she’d drank with them to not bring down the mood. She knew she wasn’t entirely fun to be around, not anymore or yet. But now she felt free if she didn’t stop to think much. Speaking of thinking, she was still able to do too much of it still. Rhys had an arm around her shoulder and she moved just enough to pluck the half-full bottle out of Amren’s hand. She felt Az’s eyes on her as she took a heavy swig out of the bottle and shuddered. 

She flashed a small smile at him and he quickly looked away.

She took another drink before Cassian snatched it.

She didn’t know what they were talking about but she could tell she was responding. Her dress, red, low-cut, caught on her heels and the cobblestones and she flew forward. Rhys let out a startled laugh as he caught her and righted her.

She flinched then giggled drunkenly.

Amren reached over and tugged lightly on the strap of Mor’s dress. Mor thought she was going to scold her. To say she should’ve not worn such a slutty dress, she couldn’t have gotten that drunk. Stumbling was a sign of weakness. She was weak. All Amren said though was, “We need to smooth out this road, right Rhysand?”

Rhys laughed, “I’ll do my best.” 

“Or you could just chop the bottom half of all your dresses off,” Cassian’s voice was slurred.

“Nope,” Az said simply.

Amren nodded her agreement, “The long dresses look amazing on her. She’s gotta keep them.” She grinned, all teeth.

Mor smiled up at the sky, the moon shining off her eyes and blonde hair like she was some kind of goddess.

She’d found her family.

A single tear whispered its way down her face and she wiped it quickly before the other noticed.

She loved these weirdo misfits, but despite that, she heard her mother whisper in the back of her mind. You may love them but they won’t stick around very long, you know that. You’ll disgrace yourself even more.

She reached for the bottle again.  
It's hard to be anywhere these days  
When all I want is you

When she was flying she was free. Flying with her coven, or flying alone, it didn’t matter. She was free.

The mountains were beautiful in the soft light of the dawn. She twisted through the snow-covered peaks. She was high above where anybody could see her and there, the young light warm on her face and the mountains at her sides she reached up and took her hair out of the braid she’d hurriedly threw it in not even an hour earlier.

Her hair whipped around her face, her movements throwing soft snow up from the peaks into her hair and face.

The contrasting temperatures and feelings were enough to clear her mind, she took a breath, deep enough to rattle her chest, and focused on the sensations. The ice and snow prickling her skin, and making her hair damp. The sun taking its daily trek through the sky and illuminating the snow with colors of orange and yellow and red. It was so early that even the bravest birds were asleep, and no lions or similar creatures were up this high. The silence was loud, filling her head with a warm buzzing sensation. She gripped the wood handle of her broom tightly attempting to focus solely on the feel of the wood beneath her calloused hands.

She failed miserably to say the least.

She leaned forward, bringing herself and her broom closer to the snow. She leaned down, running her hand through the smooth blanket, undisturbed by animals and humanoids alike.

It was so simple up here, so calm against the raging war constantly happening below. She wondered what it would be like to live a life like that.

If you’d stayed with him, you would know.

Him. Her hunter.

You would have raised your child, and he would have lived a life like this. Your reality wouldn’t be a constant power struggle between the witches and everyone else. Your reality wouldn’t be a permanent scar reminding you of your failure. Your reality wouldn’t be fighting to survive your own mind. Your reality wouldn't be so filled with people, yet so alone.

She allowed herself to slip off her broom into the welcoming pillow below her.

She lay still, listening to the silence of the dawn around her, and closed her eyes.

She was letting herself breathe, if only for a moment.  
You're a flashback in a film reel  
On the one screen in my town  
The blade was a part of her, an extension of her pain. Her beliefs. In some ways, it was her. Following through on her desires, on her desperation. She had to help the humans. That was the only thought running through her brain. Slash, dodge, flip, stab, parry, disarm, kill.

She was a mindless machine, not allowing herself a flicker of doubt as she ended the lives of her own people. No. These weren’t her people. The only thing she had in common with them was being the same species.

The blades, the one in her hand and the ones strapped along her Illyrian armor, once gleamed gold in the dying light, now shone with blood. Fae blood.

She felt a warm liquid trickle down her face and wiped absent-mindedly with her upper arm.

Her senses were confused with the havoc around her but she focused, sending her mind through the throngs of people, fae and human alike. After moments of careful concentration, she found them.

Rhysand. Cassian. Azriel. 

They were okay.

But she was about to not be.

She sensed the Spring Court foot soldier lunging just in time. She spun, winnowing for just long enough to appear behind him, snapping his neck.

She spared a glance around her seeing the bodies littered all over the field. 

The blood ran like a river and her brain flashed to another moment where blood ran over soil.

She lifted a hand to her stomach absently.

Her ears twitched as she heard it. Screaming, human screaming.

She blindly called out to an Illyrian she passed by and paused only to see him nod in response. She took off, flying through the people, the soaring arrows and the sharp blades. It was one of them. One of the people on their side.  
She lashed out frantically, dropping her sword and thrusting her hands through his chest. All the way through.

She looked down at the humans. Two of them, a father hunched over his daughter, as if protecting her.

She pulled him off of her, he was limp. Dead before she got there. The girl though, she looked to be about sixteen, her breaths coming out in short gasps, silent tears running down her face. The scratches and blood covering her proved she’d fought back.

Mor knew she had to get back to the battlefield but she kneeled anyway, pulling the girl closely against her. She gradually stopped shaking and pulled away. Looking Mor in the eye. She was afraid, but still, she looked at her unflinching. She’d just seen the barest example of what Mor could do but regardless she spoke. Her voice was hoarse, “You’re beautiful.” She ran her  
hands along Mor’s cheekbones carefully.

“I’m going to get you home,” Mor told her.

“I think I’m going to draw you.” She whispered.

Mor smiled, “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

The girl smiled brokenly, taking Mor’s face in her hands and pulling her close.  
“Don’t stop fighting. You are a warrior princess.”

Mor smiled again, “So are you.”

The girl looked at her for a beat longer, as if checking her message got through. Finally, she broke away, tearing off into the woods.

As Mor sprinted the other direction, towards the battlefield she hoped that girl would live long enough to draw her.

Spoiler alert: She didn’t. Later, Mor found her. Her heart ripped clean out of her chest. Not even a mile from her father’s body.  
And I just wanted you to know  
That this is me trying (maybe I don't quite know what to say)

One day Rhys came home, his shoulders heavy, burdened by his new responsibility. Mor took a single look at him and knew. His mother and sister were dead. And he was now the High Lord of the Night Court.

She wrapped her arms around him and he fought so hard to not melt but it was only shortly after that he did, silent tears soaking through the sleeve of her dress.

Not long after she was named Rhysand’s third in command. She was third in command to the Night Court. 

Sometimes, when the days got bad, she would run her hands all over her skin, where her father had cut her, where he nailed the note into her stomach. She felt unworthy, dirty. She was a slut, a whore, a monster. But then. Then she would remember a simple fact.

She outranked her father.

She outranked her father.

So she distracted and busied herself, focusing solely on her duties when she was required to go to Hewn City, not facing her father unless absolutely necessary. Her family fought hard with her and she finally worked up the courage to wear her favorite dresses when visiting Hewn City.

She’d always been scared to do it but when she finally did the look on her father's face and seeing her family get defensive on her behalf made it worth it. No, scratch that. Seeing herself stand up to him, knowing there was nothing he could do to hurt her? Worth more than every insult he spewed at her that night.  
~~~~

Asterin had bad days. This was an undeniable fact, something she couldn’t outrun no matter how much she tried.

There were days where she would be incapacitated from the pain, doubled over at the idea and memories of her child, her hunter. She would trace her finger over the word engraved over her damaged womb and repeat it to herself.

“Unclean. Unclean. Unclean.”

But then she would hear her name being called. So she would pull her shirt down and go meet the thirteen for whatever adventure they were headed on.

She would take every possible opportunity to stand up to Matron Blackbeak, despite the consequences from Manon.

She would look that old bitch dead in the eyes as she did whatever it was. Asterin would make sure she understood. She understood that this wasn’t completely about whatever trivial offense she’d committed. This was about the pain the matron had put her through. Had put what had to be countless witches before her (and possibly after) through.

She would curse, spit, even attempted a slap once or twice but it never made her feel powerful, or strong because it never stuck. The Matron was still in complete control, and Manon wouldn’t fight back against the Matron, never anything to upset the scales at least.

I just wanted you to know

She was healed. Not completely, she doubted she would ever be rid of the lingering trauma lovingly gifted to her by Hewn City. By her father, more specifically. But every time she put on one of her favorite dresses, she didn’t hear her mother’s voice in the back of her head.

She partied at Rita’s without inhibition, drinking as much as she wanted, spending her nights with whoever she wanted. She had control over her magic, she could fight (and she could fight really well, ask Cassian), and she loved herself. Meals were always filled with laughter and witty banter, something that before Velaris she’d never known. She had hit her peak in life, she had never been happier.

Mor fastened the jewelry to her pointed ears, smiling at herself in the mirror.

“Mor!” Cassian’s voice carried up the stairs. “Hurry up, I’m hungry!”

“Poor baby!” She called back.

“Stop taking your sweet time and get your ass down here!”

“Don’t talk about a lady’s ass, you heathen.” That was Amren. Mor couldn’t stop her very unladylike snort.

She heard vague crashing noises and then Rhys’ voice called, “Mor, you know I’m all for spending time on appearances but please before the entire Night Court gets destroyed because Cassian pissed Amren off.”

She couldn’t see them but from the noises, she could assume Rhys had Cassian by the arms and Azriel had placed himself in front of Amren, both of them fighting to stop the carnage.

She ran her fingers through her hair before backing away from her vanity and sauntering out of her bedroom.

She was right, her family was in a stand-off in the sitting room.

“Come on, you uncontrollable monsters.” She pushed her way to the front of them, met with grumbles from Cassian and Rhysand. 

After dinner they were walking the streets of Velaris, stumbling along the bank of the Sidra.

“Morrigan?” A small voice asked. They all turned to see a girl, who must have been only five, standing there. She looked nervous as all hell and clutched between grubby hands was a white rose. She held it out to Mor who crouched to be eye-level with the girl.

“This is for you,” She whispered, her voice barely audible above the rush of the Sidra.  
Mor’s heart warmed and she took the rose, and with painstaking care, she tucked it into her hair, “Thank you, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Beline,” She tucked her hands behind her, face red from the attention Mor was giving her. “I want to be like you when I grow up.”

“I have a feeling that you’re going to be better, Beline.”

A woman’s voice called Beline’s name. “Is that your mother?”

Beline nodded.

“Well, I guess you’d better run home, honey. Thank you very much for the flower, I’ll treasure it forever.” She swore, a hand over her heart.

Beline went crimson and giggled before racing off in the direction of her mother’s voice.

Mor did keep that flower, she dried it out and pressed it between the pages of her favorite novel that was always on her dresser. She was glad she had a reminder of that evening. The last peaceful and happy evening she would have for fifty years because it was very shortly after that everything went to hell.

~~~~~

Asterin grinned at Vesta, teeth sharp and bloody. Vesta grinned right back. She heard other coven members cackle behind her, and Asterin knew their grins were just as bloody.

Asterin threw her arms out with a laugh, her nails were caked with blood and dirt and who knows what else.

The Thirteen were standing in a field, ankle-deep in remains. A trickle of blood made its way down Asterin’s cheek.

Manon was picking her way through the piles of bodies toward her. 

“Gods, that was fun!” Vesta exclaimed.

Asterin spun to see the other members of the coven. Thea and Kaya were shoulder to shoulder, talking in low tones, they weren’t grinning or cackling like the others but their eyes were shining.

Ghislaine was shoving her way through the bodies and looking distastefully at the blood covering her clothes.

Faline and Fallon were crouched over a few fresher bodies and when they looked up at Asterin, their chins and teeth were coated in blood, their grins were maniacal.

Imogen was wiping the blood from her face, Linnea was picking what looked like skin from her teeth, and Briar and Edda were kicking and prodding the bodies, making sure they were dead.

Manon finally reached Asterin’s side and threw an arm over her shoulder. She licked her lips, surveying the bloody field. “This was fun, but you know we have a lot of concerns back home. My grandmother’s pissed at us for something.”

Asterin looked at her and sighed, “Yeah. But come on, Manon. Live a little! Enjoy this!” She swept her arms out wildly.

Finally, a grin broke across her face, “We did good.”

“Hell yeah, we did!”  
The two of them were standing at the top of the hill together, washed in moonlight and blood, watching the coven below them.

“This one’s still alive!” Briar shrieked.

“Live a little, Manon,” Asterin repeated. Manon grinned at her then shoved away and sprinted down the hill.

That this is me trying  
Mor opened the library door with her hip, holding two mugs tightly in her hands.

Feyre Archeron was sitting in an armchair that seemed to be swallowing her whole. She had her arms crossed over her stomach and ribs, hunched over painfully.

Mor made her steps louder to not completely scare the girl who looked like at the slightest disturbance she would disappear.

Feyre didn’t move at Mor’s entrance but her ears twitched and her nose flared slightly.

She felt herself smile and catch her breath, Feyre wasn’t afraid of her. She knew it was Mor and she hadn’t gotten defensive at her entrance. That was all she and Rhys wanted. They wanted her to know she could trust them.

She lowered herself into the chair next to Feyre, setting one of the mugs on the coffee table in front of her. Only after Mor had relaxed into the chair and taken a sip did Feyre straighten, just slightly, and reached with shaky, emaciated hands for the mug.

They sat in comfortable silence, snowflakes fluttering outside the window in the dark, watching the fireplace crackle and spark with life. The only light in the room.

She was determined to help this girl, even if it killed her.  
~~~

Asterin hung back, watching Elide Lochan carefully.

The girl held a laundry basket against her hip, keeping her weight off her bad ankle with a skill that came with years of practice. That idea sent a jolt of protective anger through Asterin. If he didn’t get what was coming to him soon, Asterin was going to give it to him.

Elide was talking in low tones to another servant girl. After they resolved the conversation Elide smiled kindly to the girl and walked off to take her basket where it needed to be.

She was about to walk up the stairs when something made her stiffen and turn. She scanned the corridor until her eyes landed on Asterin, who was half-hidden behind a column.

Elide visibly relaxed and smiled. The look in her eyes was so uncommon to be directed at an Ironteeth witch that Asterin’s breath caught.

She was so relaxed with them, she knew she was safe with them and that was what caused a smile to bloom across her face.

Surprise flashed in little Elide’s eyes and they stood there, watching each other until, “Elide! I need that dirty laundry!”

Elide called up the stairs, “Of course, I’m coming!”

Elide nodded at Asterin, still smiling, and walked up the stairs out of sight.

It was a small moment in time, fleeting compared to the centuries Asterin had lived through and insignificant when compared to what was going to happen, but that moment stuck with her.

She was going to protect that girl, even if it killed her.

At least I’m trying


End file.
